


Nikola's Adventures in Redacre

by Darkforesttrails



Category: The Blackout Club (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkforesttrails/pseuds/Darkforesttrails
Summary: Follow the life and times of a kid who recently moved to Redacre as he tries to figure out what the heck kind of town his parents moved him to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1: The Move-In

Your name is Nikola Gerald. Your friends call you Nick. You're 16 years old and you're from Washington. The state, of course. You've had to clarify that once since you got here. Not that it wasn't amusing, of course. You've never been the type to get bent out of shape over little stuff like that.

You would love to be back in Washington right now, hanging out with your best pals and watching the world roll by like you've been doing all your life. But it looks like the cruel dame known as Lady Luck had other plans for you.

Your pops is an electric worker and he got a job offer from some utility-housing hybrid company in Virginia (during what you figure was a cold call bonanza). Why they picked your family for this Chorus place, you don't know. But they offered him a job and housing and promises of a good community foundation. What the hell kind of utility company was this, your family wondered. 

Not to mention, it was located in a place where dreams went to die, in your humble opinion. Who wanted to live in a place with no internet?

But...it was also one of those too good to be true kind of deals. So, your dad struck off by himself to check the place out and make sure it wasn't some kind of scam. And, more importantly, that nobody was planning on eating your livers at dinner as soon as you got there. 

He was vanished...longer than he should have been. A lot longer. He last rung you up the day before he was supposed to start for home. Redacre was a place with low reception, though, so your ma had hoped at first that he had a flat tire and just couldn't make calls to tell her yet. Not knowing where he was or what happened to him on the other side of the country was...nerve wracking, to put it mildly. For both of you.

Three days later, you came home from school to find your mom practically wearing holes in the living room carpet. She was teary eyed and frantic and yelling into her phone about how she'd been worried sick. The last time you saw her this upset was when you got locked up in Walmart overnight when you were 7. You dropped your bag and hugged her from behind, resting your chin on her shoulder as you listened to the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. 

The good news: your father was fine. The other news: the place wasn't a scam. It was so not a scam that Pops almost didn't want to leave after his visit, so he stayed a little longer to check out what house they were going to put you in. And of course, he didn't drive out anywhere to actually call either of you until now. What the hell Dad???

Boy oh boy did your mom have some choice words for him when he finally got home. She was 10 seconds from filing a missing person report when he called.

But it didn't end there, oh no. Long story short, your dad was all joy and sparkling eyes, singing the praises of Redacre, Virginia. He proudly proclaimed that he was taking this job and nothing would stop him. You and your mom weren't exactly thrilled about the idea of moving to the land that God forgot, but it wasn't like you had a big say in it. After all, where your parents went, you had to. Two days after you cut your birthday cake, you packed up the truck and left on the world's least exciting road trip. Sitting longer than 20 hours in a car should be illegal. And you could only text your pals back home until reception cut out, leaving you in the dark. If you said you didn't feel like you'd been shipped off to jail when those bars dropped, you'd be a dirty liar.

And of course, because The Man comes in the form of the Housing Association, the first thing they did when you arrived was ask about any electronics you may have missed getting rid of. Which, of course, included Donny. Donny was the name of your radio and he was a very good radio! You used him to talk to people! You even ran your own mini talkshow on him and they just took that away! You're chill as a penguin and there's a lot of things in this world that you'll let slide, but you'll never forgive anyone for the loss of your old friend. 

Your ma tried to protest when they asked if there was anything else besides Donny the Radio that produced a signal, but Pops insisted it was necessary. After all, you were in a government zone and signals might mess up the big telescope. You would have been fascinated by the scope if you weren't busy protesting at the time. Man were you steamed!

If only a radio was the worst of your problems now! But nah, your life is currently one long conga line of freshly smelted irons being thrown into only the hottest of flames.

After that ordeal, all three of you were sat down in a distressingly clean little office and given a stack of paperwork taller than your head. The lady rambled on and on about Redacre and its mission, the school you'd be going to, and the role of Chorus in literally every aspect of your existence here. Talk about an Orwellian snorefest! As you prepared to walk out of the office, you tried one last time to beg your parents to turn around and go back home, but they wouldn't hear it. Pops was too excited and home was sold anyway. Besides, they were already here, so they might as well make the best of it, your mom said. And that was the end of that.


	2. Of Waking Up and Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That feeling when you wake up in strange places after sleepwalking and you might not be the only one???

You are currently sitting at your desk with your homework, the orange glow of a setting sun pouring in through the windows. It should be a peaceful scene but...it isn't. In fact, you can barely focus on your homework most nights and your grades are dropping. Your parents have you in tutoring, remedial classes, the works. But tutors can't help what's actually wrong. You overheard them one evening discussing medication to help your schoolwork. They floated around a few words like "attention deficit" and "not trying hard enough" and something something poor response to the move. They had no idea you could hear them. Honestly? 

It killed you. On the inside, it just straight up killed you to hear that. You tried to tell them what was wrong more than a few times. Every time, they blamed it on stress or your high energy levels or this or that. They didn't seem to think anything overly strange was happening with you and even you were starting to believe it. 

The first month or two of your move, things were new and weird but you were managing. You got along pretty well with the other kids at school and somehow found yourself popping into the cool kid table with your sparkling wit. You totally have no idea who of your new friends started that food fight, by the way, but you profited when someone threw their closed bag of chips. Score!

You even plucked up the courage to ask out the kid who sits behind you in math. You'd been scared that he'd be weirded out by the fact you're both guys, but that melted away pretty quick when he said yes. You had a great time that somehow ended with both of you getting eaten alive by mosquitoes on a particularly hot night as you walked home. Erik is shy as they come, but he's a lot of fun to hang with when he's comfortable. You like him a lot.

Point being, you were doing just fine! It was even starting to feel normal here! The only thing you really noticed was that you were a little sleepier than usual. And that you had one particular spot in the yard that you consistently tripped over for no reason. 

You were doing fine and then...you woke up. 

You didn't just wake up from a bad night terror. You woke up from a living hell. You had a dream that night. One where you were back home and your friends were there and you were just playing cards behind the school and then...the sky went dark. Your dream friends stopped moving. The wind stopped and so did the birds in the trees. Dream You had thought it was the apocalypse, the end times, the pale rider's last ride. 

But no. What you had seen was the night sky. The real night sky. 

You found yourself on your back, half sunk into a pool of mud under a field of stars, your heart pounding and your chest heaving as you tried to make sense of where you were. The images of your old school and your old friends faded around you as reality set in. You shook in the cold and the terror, feeling paralyzed. Somewhere under you, the ground rumbled. You felt like there should be a sound with it, but there was nothing except a sense of loss snarling deep in your bones and radiating through your veins. You were alone.

When you found yourself again and came home at dawn, freezing cold and soaked in mud, your parents were worried. Most parents would be worried, that wasn't the problem! The problem is that as soon as you were cleaned up and rested, they told you you were sleepwalking from stress and that you were going to the doctor. 

You had thought, 'hey, maybe I really am more frazzled than a cat fresh out of a bath!' You really thought for a while that something was wrong with you. You spent a lot of time exhausted, with dark bags under your eyes.

It wasn't until a few weeks afterwards, the sleeping meds they prescribed hidden under your mattress (it's not like it helps anyway), and your clothes filthy from the other times you've woken up outside, that you finally heard the whispers at school. You weren't the only one who looked worse for the wear. Kids were waking up near the train tracks, talking in their sleep, following the music. ...What music? 

You hadn't told anyone at school about your own sleepwalking, but now you felt like you needed to.

You tried Erik first, pulling him aside in the hallway and asking he's noticed anything weird at night. If you're really overthinking it, he'll at least be nice about it and spare your dumbass self. Instead...He stared at you like a deer in the headlights and just stood there. He's been pretty jittery since you met him, but this was...it looked like he was seriously scared of something, not even responding when you called his name. Erik finally snapped out of his trance when the bell rang for third period. In fact, the bell seemed to have startled him and he pressed his hands to his ears, shaking and muttering to himself.

What the heck? Of course your first instinct was to try and calm him down, what kind of heartless bastard wouldn't try? He trembled and took a breath, looking up at you with wide eyes. 

"Listen--" He had pulled you close and looked over his shoulder before whispering in your ear in the most rushed tone you've ever heard. "Mrs. Reynolds is giving out homework like crazy this week. Come by my place tonight and we can work on it together."

....Math...homework....? 

He pulled back and stared you in the eyes until the message clicked. You looked slowly around you then back to Erik, who just nodded before his eyes darted around again. There were a lot of people in this hall, on their way to and from class.  
Without a word, he gave you a pat on the shoulder and ran off towards study hall, nearly tripping over himself on the way.

You spent the whole day in a doozy of a daze, your ears straining for any hint of sleepwalk talk. You would have asked the other kids you heard the rumors from to begin with, but Erik's reaction when you asked him made you want to keep your mouth shut for the time being. The closest you got to gathering more info was two freshman girls (you think they were Claire and Sophie?) mentioning something about their parents disappearing from the house at night. When you tried to ask what they meant, they just looked at each other and awkwardly shuffled into the girl's bathroom.

To be fair, you did sort of butt into their conversation and you shouldn't have been surprised when they walked away. You remember making a note to apologize when you saw them again. Go figure, you all ended up in the same club together anyway.


	3. Starting Towards the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have a flashback to that time you learned weird secrets about the town your parents dragged you to and they are not good secrets. And then you really, really wonder how this happened.

"Wait, so you live alone with your brother?" You had kicked back on the bean bag in Erik's loft, curiously gazing around the room as he sat in the armchair across from you. It was small, brightly lit, and covered in pictures of golden retrievers. You remembered seeing two empty dog bowls on the floor in the kitchen, but there was no dog when you came in. Back then, you had thought the dog must be outside somewhere.

"Sort of. My parents are gone for work a lot, so it's just me and him. And he's usually gone doing...I don't even know what, we don't talk much, so it's pretty much just me." He shrugged, curling up in his chair, his eyes downcast. You noticed him glancing at one of the dog photos and decided it was better not to ask more about it, though the thought barely had left your head when he continued.

"But...back to the important stuff. Rule 1:" He held up a finger, his expression grim. "Nothing said here leaves this room. Nobody's ever here, so that's why it's a good place for it. Two...be careful about what names you say."

"Now you've lost me completely, pal."

"Sorry! Um...okay. So the sleepwalking. There's kind of, uh…" He looked over his shoulder, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Okay, don't freak out, but...would you believe me if I said there was a secret cultist base under the town?" You stared at him in sheer confusion, waiting for him to laugh and tell you he was joking. But he didn't. His face was dead serious. 

"Excuse me, but. What." You didn't take him for a purveyor of tall tales, but that was...a weird claim to make, to say the least.

"I can-" He jumps to his feet, his voice shaking. "I can show you! Um, later. It's dangerous though, so we'll have to stock up first." He sat back down, eyes bright.

"It's real, though. I promise. And the reason we're sleepwalking is--there's an instrument in it. A big one. And when it plays at night, the town starts sleepwalking."

"Wait. The whole town?" What. The. Fuck.

"Yeah...the whole town. Us, our families, the neighbors…" He looked down again, shivering. "That's why I didn't tell you at school, by the way. The teachers, the cops, some of everyone's parents. They're all in on it, Nick!"

"How are they in on it if they're sleepwalking?" The question was half joking--a normal mechanism for you when your brain is breaking--but it put a nasty weight in the pit of your stomach to think something bad might be happening to your folks. They're weird sometimes but you love them a lot. 

"Some of them don't sleep. They...can't sleep, I think? We call those the Lucids. They can see us but we can't see them…" He trailed off, the color draining from his face as he balled his fists. "Sometimes when we escape them, they say they'll find us in the daytime. And that they're people we know. They're watching the state line and we're locked in here and there's really nowhere to go and..and…"

You could barely hear his voice by the end of it. It was quiet and quivering and full of bad memories. He was curled up small and pressing his hands to his ears, his lips moving and no audible sound coming up. 

You swallowed hard, standing up and crossing over to him. Unless he was the best actor on the planet, in which case he deserved an Oscar, he wasn't making this up. That's not the kind of response someone has unless they're completely rattled.

"Hey, hey. Stay with me here, Erik. It's going to be okay." You whispered, balancing on the armrest of his chair while you wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. You wished you could do more to help him right then, but...what else could you done at the time? This was way above your pay grade and you were absolutely reeling from the shock and you had no idea what else to do. 

"I believe you." You're still in disbelief about there apparently being a government mind control experiment directly under your house, but that's not the point here. Either way...this poor guy had seen some shit if how hard he was hyperventilating was anything to go by.


End file.
